Team Sedition
by Sticky Barb
Summary: In a world where monsters prowl the wilds and hunters fight for the sake of the human race, the battle for survival is not an easy one. But there are whispers among the hunters - rumours of a band of hunters with wild personalities who care nothing about survival. All they want is to have a fun time... with as many 'lulz' as possible. This is the story of Team Sedition.
1. Prologue

In this world, there are legends.

There are horrible legends, tales of mighty dragons of ruin, the memories of which strike fear into the heart of every child past their bedtime. There are inspiring legends, stories of great men and women who overcame the odds to achieve impossible feats, defeating the aforementioned dragons of destruction, and saving the world. There are funny legends, like tales of how the Khezu was cursed with its unsightly appearance, or why the Bullfango is always so angry.

In this world, there are legends.

There are legends that fall into neither of the categories above, fables that are equal parts comedy, epic and tragedy. These are few and far between, but whenever these myths are spread – be it by children laughing about it as they tell each other stories, or by hunters whispering in between swigs of alcohol – they stick around in the listeners' minds like Nerscylla thread, passed down from generation to generation.

In this world, there are legends.

Are they real? Are they mere figments of a hyperactive imagination? No one knows, and I suspect no one cares. However, this tale I am about to present is no fictional saga. This is not a spiel made up to impress the audience. This is a tale of hunters, but not the tales you hear exchanged between hunters in the hot springs, nor half-drunken accounts shouted by exhausted men at the bar. Does this qualify as a legend? Well, you'll have to decide for yourself.

In this world, there are legends.

This one just happens to include gore, panties, swearing, laughter, vomit, more gore, fighting, screaming, booze, and more gore. You have been warned.

Sticking around? Good.

This is the legend of Team Sedition.


	2. Hella Fire

There was an unusually large crowd in the Dundorma commons tonight. The commons was no stranger to holding hordes of people, but it was an uncommon (heh) occurrence for it to be as crowded as it was today. Hunters and civilians alike gathered, and the shops enjoyed a surge in sales as everyone wanted a Mosswine Jerky or artificially-sweetened Cool Drink to celebrate. Hanging lanterns glowed with gentle lighting, illuminating every face that walked the streets below, and the air was filled with excited chatter and rowdy laughter.

A weary hunter, wearing armour made of some sleek white carapace, squeezed through the crowd, his orange Kinsect clinging onto his shoulder and his helmet under an armpit, revealing a youthful, somewhat childlike face with sweet brown skin and a messy mop of hair. The Foebeetle was silent, but the hunter knew that one motion of the glaive strapped to his back was enough to direct the intelligent insect. The Demolition Press, made of sturdy Brachydios materials, and his Nerscylla S armour attracted a fair bit of attention…

"Gogdammit, Myungzal, you're a freaking dumbass," the hunter muttered under his breath, as he practically forced himself through the crowd. It was so tempting to just whip out his glaive to clear a path… but that was the problem. Apparently, he had returned from a hunt to find the entire town celebrating some kind of festival. He couldn't even get home with this enormous crowd… how was he going to get changed into casual clothes and join in the festivities? He should have taken the Gargwa cab from the Elder Hall…

"He's here!" There were cries from the crowd, and all of a sudden Myungzal was being pushed by the flow of the crowd, despite his above-average physical strength. "H-Hey!" he exclaimed to no avail, as even a hunter was no match for an excited mob. "D-Dammit, I'm a G-rank hunter! Show some respect, you brutes–"

"G-rank?" "You don't even look old enough to drink!" "What kind of G-rank hunter runs around in high rank armour, faker?"

"Nngh…" Truth be told, Myungzal had only been conferred the title of G-rank Hunter mere hours ago. And at quite the young age, too! It was uncommon for a man as young as he was to reach G-rank. Barely even old enough to drink, yet Myungzal had slain foes that would make men twice his age shudder in awe. He still had wounds from the Ukanlos he had slain earlier… thankfully, the other three hunters were experienced G-rank hunters who had happily volunteered to help. Myungzal didn't even need to do much in that fight. But… he had still earned the rank, right? So these pesky, disrespectful little-

The pushing finally ended, and it was so crowded Myungzal would have found it hard to breathe, were it not for his armour. As unintentional as it was, he found himself thankful that he was still fully equipped – it made it easier to push through plainclothes-wearing people. "Excuse me!" he apologised, forcing himself through the sea of people. "I'm not here for the festival, excuse me!"

"What is he talking about?" "What festival?" Doesn't he know about the concert?" "What a loser!"

 _Concert? What concert?_ All of a sudden, Myungzal realised that the crowd was definitely here to watch something; everyone was facing the same way, looking towards the centre of the commons. Now he realised why it had been so difficult to get down the stairs from the Elder Hall – everyone had been standing on the stairs to get a better view. There was a stage set up in the middle of the town square, with torches and lanterns lighting it up so everyone could see what was on it – a massive horn, similar to the ones carried by hunters, easily several storeys tall. "But… there's nothing there," Myungzal muttered, staring curiously and trying to see better. Maybe he should have packed binoculars, as several members of the audience had…

The crowd's cheering reached a crescendo as a dark-skinned man in ridiculously flashy golden armour clambered up the stage, his grin visible even from this distance. The armour was the most noticeable thing about the man; it had shoulder guards that looked like they could kill on impact, with all the spikes. He had what looked like a seashell in his gloved hand, and he raised it to his mouth looking even more excited than the crowd that had gathered to watch him. _"ARE YOU BITCHES READY TO FUCKIN' PARTY?"_ His voice boomed over even the screaming of the masses, and Myungzal realised that the shell and horn he was using was somehow amplifying his voice _massively._ The hunter on stage threw his head back, basking in the roar of the crowd as it washed over the town. It seemed like half the town had gathered for this one event, as everyone raised their hands in the air in response. Myungzal coughed as the stench of sweaty armpits washed over him, but it seemed like no one besides him noticed.

" _Biscuit! Biscuit!"_ The audience chanted, and the hunter on stage grinned even wider. _"That's right, people!"_ he exclaimed with a raised fist of his own. _"Tonight, I want you to forget all your worries, forget all your obligations, hell, forget the old ass momma you left at home to attend this party! For tonight, we are gonna scream, shout, and dance until the sun rises! You feel me?!"_

" _Biscuit! Biscuit!"_ The chanting grew even louder, and even Myungzal felt a need to lift his hands and respond. The mood to party was infectious, and this 'Biscuit' seemed to have a penchant for awakening the dormant party spirit of everyone present. _"Biscuit! Biscuit! Biscuit!"_

" _Thaaaat's right, people. Alright, Howley, drop those sick beats, fren!"_

As if on cue, music began blasting from the horn, strange futuristic sounds that Myungzal had never heard before in his life, yet it seemed to echo within his soul, and draw out his true self he never knew existed – the spirit of the party animal, the Kecha Wacha that lived in everyone's heart. Submitting himself to the sound, he lifted his hands into the air, hopping to the beat just like everyone else was, screaming at the top of his lungs. _"Biscuit!"_ he yelled, just like every soul in the crowd was doing. _"Biscuit! Biscuit!"_

" _Alright fam,"_ Biscuit said with an overly dramatic bow. _"This is the debut of my new single, 'Pardon' co-produced by my brotha from another motha, Mister Howley! Everybody put your hands together to the beat!"_

The crowd began clapping to the beat, as Biscuit erupted into lyrical verse, but it was so loud that even the sounds from the horn were drowned out. Time and space seemed to melt away, turning into And to be honest, Myungzal didn't care – all that mattered was the beat, the steady thrumming of the horn, the flapping sound of wings that was just barely audible over the noise…

 _Wait. Wings?_

The horrific screech overpowered the sound of any music, forcing everyone in the audience to cover their ears to block out the unbearably loud roar. Myungzal's hands flew to his ears, groaning in pain, but he managed to spare a glance at the source of the noise. The roar was recognisable to many hunters in the audience, but even so, the red scales that covered the body of the flying wyvern were famous even amongst children. The flying wyvern's body was battered, its wings were riddled with holes, and its tail was missing, but still it managed to stay in the air despite swaying around unsteadily. Its appearance, though pitiful, was well-known – the Rathalos, King of the Skies, swooped over the audience, the gust that whipped up in its wake strong enough to make people fall over.

" _Yo, this wasn't in the script!"_ Biscuit cried in dismay, jumping off the stage with the shell still held to his mouth. Myungzal noticed that there was some sort of cable connecting the shell to the giant horn, but _dammit brain, there are more important things to consider!_ The audience began to panic, stampeding wildly away from the centre as the Rathalos circled the area, embers beginning to form in its mouth. Once again, the young hunter was pushed back by the force of the crowd's movement, barely managing to keep his footing.

"Oh shit, is that a Rathalos?" "I'm not gonna stick around and ask, idiot!" "Dammit, I shouldn't have sneaked out today…" The screams of enjoyment had turned into screams of fear, and the Rathalos, whose crimson scales reflected the lantern light eerily, was the star of the show this time. The wyvern appeared bewildered by its surroundings, flying around erratically as people fled from it, and its threatening growls were audible even over the cries of fear from the terrified humans.

Yet even as everyone fled, two hunters dressed in the same golden armour as Biscuit ran _towards_ the stage, shrugging off the people that collided with them like water onto a Plesioth. Myungzal ran with them towards the stage; he wasn't sure if he had enough steam left in him to battle a Rathalos, but he wasn't going to just let a flying wyvern rampage in a town like this! "Hey!" he cried out at Biscuit, who suddenly had an oversized golden sword and shield in his hands and appeared to be doing a quick inspection on his equipment. "Hey, you! Are you going to help?"

Myungzal came to a stop next to Biscuit. While he seemed like more of a performer than a hunter, up close, he definitely had the aura of an experienced fighter. Especially now that he had his golden helmet on, with visor slid down. Myungzal couldn't help but gulp – despite being almost the same height, maybe a little shorter, he felt dwarfed by this man… And the other two golden hunters were equally intimidating, dressed in the same armour as Biscuit and carrying similar golden weapons on their backs. The taller of the two appeared to be carrying a folded blade, while the other had a smooth golden shield strapped to his right arm and an enormous, barrelled lance on his back. "U-Um, sirs," he stammered, suddenly feeling very small. "We should try to fight off this Rathalos and protect the people here, don't you think?"

"Fight it off?" Biscuit scoffed, sliding the sword and shield into a harness on his back. Myungzal stared at it - it was far larger than a regular sword and shield pair. "Hell no. This piece of Dung interrupted my performance… a performance I've been preparing for since gog knows when. I'mma make sure that bastard _crawls._ "

"Ah… okay…" Not exactly the answer he expected, but as long as he wanted to dispatch the wyvern…

"Well said!" The anonymous hunter with a shield had his face covered by the helmet he was wearing, but Myungzal could practically hear the crazed expression of glee on his face. This was a bloodthirsty hunter, and they usually were bad company… The taller of the two new hunters gave the other a punch in the shoulder, his posture suggesting that he was annoyed. "Keep your bloodlust to yourself," he growled. "You always ruin first impressions…"

In its haste to land, the Rathalos had crashed into a fruit stall and was now wobbling to its feet, covered from wing to wing in smashed watermelons. "That Rathalos looks pretty battered," Myungzal commented, pulling his glaive off his back. The Kinsect on his head crawled onto his shoulder, then onto his arm in preparation for the coming battle. "Do you know why a Rathalos would attack a town like this? And a badly wounded one, at that…"

"Well," the taller golden hunter jerked his thumb at the shorter one, "this _genius_ here decided that the best way to, uh, heat up Biscuit's concert was to release a captured Rathalos from its cage in the Guild holding pens. I have _no_ idea how he managed to sneak past the guards and break the lock, but he did it somehow, so here we are."

"Yeah! Yeah!" the hunter with a shield was practically vibrating with excitement. "What better way to commemorate a super fire song with super fire monster, eh? Am I right or am I right?"

"You're right on the supa fire song, at least…" Biscuit nodded slightly, but turned to face the Rathalos. The wyvern was shaking off the bits of fruit from its body, flames licking against its maw already from its rage. "No time to talk, fam. A Rathalos with such damaged wings won't be able to fly away, so it seems like we're forced to capture this sunovagun…"

"Capture? Why not just kill it? I'd love to just blast it to pieces–"

"Himura? Seriously, you're hopeless." The taller hunter sighed, reaching into the pouch strapped to his back of his hips and pulling out a disc-shaped metal object. "Thankfully, I grabbed a shock trap when I heard that a Rathalos was loose, so we can use this to capture the beast. You'll have to lure it over, though–"

A splitting roar cut the conversation short, as the Rathalos noticed the hunters and bellowed out a challenge. Myungzal immediately put on his helmet the second the roar died down, sliding it into place. "No need to lure it!" He yelled out, holding his glaive in the stance he was accustomed to. "Looks like it's bringing the fight to us!"

" _Hella fire, spitting bars, I'mma slash this lizard in the arse."_ Biscuit's sword and shield were now in his hands, and he twirled the blade deftly with one hand. "Okay, guys, let's show Mr. Rath who's the _real_ star of the show, shall we?"


End file.
